


come to me (like destiny)

by moonrise31



Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [26]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, but it's world war ii, crash landing on you au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:33:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23839936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrise31/pseuds/moonrise31
Summary: in which it’s 1944, sana crash lands near a us military base in the middle of the pacific, and mina just can’t find it in her heart to not help the enemy.
Relationships: Minatozaki Sana/Myoui Mina
Series: once, twice, and again until it's over [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/935700
Comments: 18
Kudos: 303
Collections: ~Darling and Honey~ A Misana Collection





	come to me (like destiny)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the lyrics of “but it’s destiny” by 10cm

mina dreams of a black crow standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

it’s picking at a carcass -- some kind of rodent, maybe a rat. the body is stiff. it rocks back and forth on the pavement with each jab and rip from the crow’s relentless beak.

some soldiers emerge from their barracks, combat boots shuffling heavily against the asphalt as they fill the air with idle chatter. it’s as if mina is hearing them through a wall of water, voices low and distorted as they approach the crow. mina thinks that it will flap away, perhaps squawking in protest. 

the crow merely raises its head, beady eyes glittering. it places one authoritative foot on the carcass, alert and watching as the soldiers turn. but they barely spare a glance at the crow and its putrid prize before they continue down the sidewalk. 

mina wakes up with the image of tiny white bones picked clean of decaying flesh. she lies stiffly underneath her sheets, the pacific breeze blowing in from the cracked open window sparing a kiss to her forehead before leaving it cold and damp. she thinks about the crow and its total lack of fear in the face of mortal danger -- its wholehearted dedication to guarding something so rotten that no one else would even think to look at it.

not for the first time, mina decides that she hates the war. 

the moon is shining. in the bed on the other side of the room, momo turns in her sleep. mina shifts, too, and the angle is just enough for her to catch a metallic glint in the corner of her eye. she adjusts her head further, cheek pressed into her pillow, and stares at the radio on the nightstand beside her bed. it hasn’t worked in months; she had already tried replacing the battery without success, and she should really just throw it out. but it’s the only thing she has of her brother’s until she is able to return home, so she tells herself that it is still enough. 

mina looks and looks. the radio’s metal shine eventually softens from moonlit white to the yellow of a new dawn. and mina thinks that the sun does rise, no matter the spot of ocean she ends up in.

but she isn’t sure she will ever get used to this view of it.

she misses her parents and the beach she and her friends used to frequent after school and during the summers, watching sunsets and singing around bonfires while wrapped in blankets and counting the stars. here, the sky is much too blue during the day and much too black at night, and the palm trees droop limply in the salty, humid air.

then the base’s daily discordant bugle call announces dawn’s arrival, and mina hates this, too. but momo’s colorful string of expletives after nearly falling out of bed at the abrupt blast of sound does make mina’s morning a little better.

today, the enemy’s airwaves are quiet, so their translation work is light. the dull afternoon melts quickly into the first tendrils of early evening, and momo convinces mina to use their remaining hour of daylight to walk along the beach after dinner. 

mina’s shoe taps against a half-buried beer bottle in the sand. it makes her think, childishly, that she isn’t allowed to wear sandals here. she resists stomping her foot -- but only just -- and kicks sand over the bottle before stepping over it.

“it’s hot,” says momo, taking off her cap and using it to fan her face. her cheeks and neck are shining with sweat in the fading light, bangs glued to her forehead even against the currents of warm air momo waves at them. “it’s almost nighttime, and i feel like we could still be fried like eggs on a sidewalk.”

“it's always hot,” mina says, looking out towards the sea. there are no clouds today, and her eyes hurt from the burnt streaks of red and orange trailing the setting sun. “we’re in the middle of the pacific.”

momo huffs, giving up and tucking her cap into the front pocket of her uniform jacket. “they could at least give us thinner clothing. i don’t see why all the men get to walk around without their shirts while we’re still expected to put on lipstick every day.”

“you could go topless if you wanted to,” mina suggests. “maybe it’ll be scandalous enough to get you sent back home.”

momo snorts. “very funny, myoui.”

mina doesn’t reply; she’s busy squinting at the dark lump on the shore maybe fifty feet in front of them. “what’s that?” 

momo narrows her eyes, too, bringing a hand up as a shield from the sunlight. “i don’t know. maybe one of the soldiers left their gear after training?”

“the lieutenant would skin them alive,” says mina. she walks a little faster. “doesn’t it look like a person?”

“who would be napping on the beach here?” momo matches her pace. “and they’re halfway in the water, too. that’s no way to sleep.”

the two break into a run, drifting closer to the shoreline, where the footing is firmer. once they’re close enough to make out the figure more clearly, mina spots long hair and a dark skirt, and a string of seaweed curls around a pale, thin wrist. mina slows, the sand crunching wetly under her steps. “she’s not wearing a uniform. where did she come from?”

momo stops in her tracks. “maybe we should get someone -- hey, mina, wait!”

mina is already kneeling by the girl. the stranger’s eyes are closed, one cheek pressed into the wet sand. mina reaches out carefully and brushes aside the few clumped strands of hair covering the girl’s face. her first thought is that the stranger is pretty; her second -- the one that she decides to ignore -- is that the stranger looks japanese. still, she says, “we have to help her.”

“i agree,” says momo, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “i can go back to base and -- oh, alright, i guess we’ll just carry her by ourselves.”

mina has slipped her arms under the girl’s, and is currently trying to haul her up by her armpits. the seawater from the girl’s clothes seeps into the front of mina’s jacket, but she only grunts. “a little help here would be appreciated.”

momo sighs and steps forward. “fine. here, let me.” she crouches down next to them, on the other side mina isn’t supporting, and ducks under one limp arm before letting it fall around her shoulders. momo holds the girl’s wrist in one hand to keep it in place, and then wraps her other arm around the girl’s waist. “you take the other side.”

mina does, and the two of them slowly straighten. they’re a good half-mile from the base, and having a deadweight in between them doesn’t make the trek easy. they make it maybe fifty yards down the shoreline before momo says between heavy breaths, “people are going to ask questions.”

“i know.” mina glances at the fiery horizon. “there’s half an hour before sunset, and then an hour until curfew. maybe we can just hide her outside the base until they turn off the lights, and then we can sneak her in.”

momo shifts the girl’s arm a little so she can lean forward and peer at mina. “sneak her in where, exactly?”

mina manages a shrug. “our room, probably.”

momo’s jaw drops. “are you insane? we can’t just smuggle an entire person into our room, and then keep her there without anyone knowing.”

“we can't bring her to the infirmary,” says mina. “they’re going to interrogate her, or maybe even arrest her.”

momo raises her eyebrows. “and why would that be a problem?”

mina doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t know whether any explanation she could come up with would be enough. she can’t say that it would be unfair, nor can she convince momo that the unconscious girl they’re carrying looks nice enough and probably doesn’t pose any danger. and yet, mina feels a constant, fierce push to protect this stranger that she hasn’t even heard the voice of -- someone who will be subject to the lieutenant’s judgment as soon as he catches wind of her existence. mina's muscles tense again at the thought, so she swallows the lump in her throat and meets momo’s gaze. “look, let’s just get her in the trees somewhere and try to wake her up first, at least.”

“fine,” momo huffs. “i’m dropping her as soon as we find a spot that doesn’t have too many rocks.”

mina is able to guide them past the treeline enough so that their dusk-tinted figures blend in with the tropical foliage. once they’ve settled the girl on the ground, back propped up against a tree trunk, mina crouches in front of her, pouring some water from her canteen onto the sleeve of her own jacket. she takes the dampened hem and begins to dab at the girl’s forehead.

the girl shifts. mina freezes, and she can feel momo holding her breath just behind her. mina slowly reaches out again, giving the girl’s forehead another careful wipe, and quickly withdraws when the other’s eyelids flutter open.

“who...where...where am i?” 

her words are barely audible over the hum of the humid jungle. but the foreign language crashes through the air like a landslide straight into mina’s ears, jarring her thoughts into a frenzied rattle inside of her skull. mina manages to keep her face still, smoothly holding out her canteen. she says in japanese, “here, drink this. slowly, please.”

the girl does so. her eyes dart around as she swallows each mouthful, taking in the darkening twilight and treetops surrounding them, and then mina and momo watching her. she finally lowers the canteen, smiling. “thank you for saving me.”

mina doesn’t expect the smile, nor know what to think of it. her tongue ties a little. “we -- we just pulled you out of the ocean. are you feeling alright? do you need medical attention?”

“i’ll be fine,” the girl says, setting the canteen on the ground beside her. “nothing a quick trip to the hospital can’t take care of. would you mind pointing me in the right direction?”

mina presses her lips together. momo shifts from one foot to the other.

the girl glances between the two of them, and then gives another smile. “right, i suppose it’s too much for me to assume that i'm still near japan after that monster of a storm. have i landed on one of the nearby islands, then? with a military encampment, i’m guessing,” she adds, eyes flicking to the cap on mina’s head. “i hope i haven’t landed in the war zone.”

mina can only think of one thing to say. “yes, you have.”

the girl’s eyes widen, and in any other situation mina would have laughed at how close to the size of dinner plates they actually are. “what?”

“you’ve landed on an island with a military encampment, in the war zone,” says mina. 

“i see.” the girl pauses, and then laughs, nervous. “i’m sorry. this isn’t what i planned at all -- i’m just -- i’ll --” she scrambles to her feet; mina and momo quickly get up as well. “i’m so sorry. if you take me to whoever’s in charge of your troop, i’ll explain everything to him.”

“you do know that we’re american, right?” momo finally says.

the girl freezes. she clears her throat. “but -- but you’re speaking japanese.”

“japanese people exist outside of japan,” momo shoots back, and the girl has no response for that.

“we can still take you to our lieutenant, if you want,” says mina after a moment.

the girl shakes her head furiously. “never mind. i've already troubled you two enough, really. i'll just be on my way, and i won't even tell anyone i’ve been here, i promise.”

“how do you plan on getting off the island?” mina frowns. “how did you even get here in the first place? are you a soldier?”

“i’m not a soldier, and i’m definitely not here to fight you.” the girl pauses, the gears in her mind clearly turning. “i just need to find my plane. if i find my plane, i can fly back, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

“you mentioned a storm,” momo points out. “and we found you on the beach, very much without a plane. i’d say that you’re good and stranded.”

“right. of course. great.” the girl smiles again, but it’s considerably stiffer. “i can pay you however much you want. just get me back to japan, and i won’t breathe a word of any of this to anyone.”

“and what exactly are you going to pay us with?” momo scoffs. “look, we did you a favor by pulling you out of the ocean, but we better take you to the lieutenant --”

“oh, my goodness.” the girl’s eyes grow impossibly larger at something behind them. “what in the world is that?” 

mina and momo both turn to look. mina frowns when she sees nothing but the darkened foliage. then there’s a scramble of shoes against dirt and the rustling of vegetation, and the two of them whip back around. “shit.” momo takes off after the girl; mina is hot on her heels.

between the two of them, mina has always been a little faster. but the girl is surprisingly agile, even while crashing through the tropical undergrowth under patchy moonlight. the lights from the base are already visible in the distance, and mina guesses that the girl is making a beeline for them. with a burst of speed, mina pulls ahead of momo and swerves to the right of the girl’s path. mina doesn’t know the forest too well, but she manages to keep up her pace, straining to gain enough lead and cut the girl off before they exit the jungle.

mina curses under her breath when the girl veers left just before clearing the treeline. momo is dozens of yards behind by now, so mina pushes her tired muscles even further as the girl slips between two of the long one-story buildings that make up the base’s barracks.

night has fallen fully, and mina has to strain her eyes whenever the girl runs into an area not brightened by the floodlights staked periodically throughout the base. the girl has at least enough sense to try and avoid the soldiers and staff still out and about, but mina doesn’t have it any easier as she slinks after, mind racing as she thinks of how she can finally overtake the other without seemingly dashing around like a lunatic.

there’s a sudden chorus of shouts; the both of them freeze in their places. mina looks to the well-illuminated main path, where a few soldiers are saluting the lieutenant. they stand barely fifty yards away from where the girl has stopped, just in front of the entrance to one of the barrack buildings. mina realizes with a start that the room she shares with momo is just inside.

the lieutenant is close enough that mina has no problem making out his side profile: the constant slight downturn of his mouth as he nods at the soldiers, and how he’s seconds away from turning his head to make direct eye contact with the girl standing stiffer than a severely displaced deer caught in the floodlights. 

mina dashes out of her hiding spot. the girl squeaks when mina literally runs into her, propelling her closer to the building. mina has no time to tell her to be quiet. she reaches around the girl to throw the door open and shove them both over the threshold, and then swiftly pulls the door shut again. 

they stand absolutely still, dreading the heavy clunk of boots approaching from the other side.

fortunately, only the muffled silence of the building settles in their ears. mina waits a few more seconds before she lets all of her breath out, shoulders heaving as all of the sprinting and sneaking finally overwhelms the adrenaline still shaking her limbs. it's not until a trembling exhale brushes against her cheek that she realizes she’s pushed the girl against the wall, one of mina’s hands still on the doorknob while the other bunches the fabric of the shirt above the other girl’s waist.

the girl stares back, and mina is hovering close enough to feel her entire body quivering. mina blinks once, and then swallows. she chalks up the heat in her cheeks and her fiercely throbbing heart to the chase and near run-in with the lieutenant. 

a door down the hall behind mina slams shut, and she remembers that they’re not in the clear just yet.

“come on,” she hisses, stepping back and grabbing the girl by the wrist instead. mina tugs her down the hallway, thanking the dim lighting and the late hour for their uneventful trek to her room. after she ushers the girl inside, she turns to see momo jogging down the hallway towards her.

“so you made it,” momo breathes as soon as mina closes the door behind them. then momo spots the girl standing in the middle of the room. “and you did, too,” she adds in japanese.

“please,” the girl whispers. “i just want to go home.”

mina clears her throat. “we know. and we’ll help as best we can.”

momo turns. “we will?”

“we’ll think of something,” says mina. she points at her own bed. “you can sleep here tonight. i can take you to the washroom, and lend you things to wear. we’ll talk about what to do in the morning.”

“oh.” the girl shifts from one foot to the other. “um, alright. thank you.”

momo switches back to english as mina begins searching for clean clothes and a spare toothbrush. “this means that you’re sleeping on the floor, right?” 

“thanks for sharing your bed with me, you’re really the greatest,” mina says sweetly as she straightens. momo groans and flops backwards onto the bed. 

mina and the girl don’t exchange any more words on the trip to and from the washroom, but mina welcomes the silence as she strains her eyes and ears for any chance of getting caught. realistically, the girl doesn’t look any different from the rest of the female translators lodged in this building, and no one on the base keeps track of every single face. but mina still can’t let herself breathe easily until they’ve returned to the room, where momo is already buried under the covers on one side of her bed -- the other side thoughtfully sports an extra pillow. 

the girl timidly crawls under mina’s covers, and mina reaches up to pull the chain attached to the single bare lightbulb on the ceiling. the room falls into darkness, but mina has no problem finding her way and quietly slipping into bed next to momo. the reality of the person now lying less than five paces from them finally crashes down on mina, and she decides to close her eyes instead of thinking about it further.

just before she drifts off, she thinks that the girl whispers “good night” into the space between them. but mina often dreams of much likelier things.

\--

sana sleeps surprisingly well. the bed sheets are soft -- although even sandpaper might feel like heaven after sitting for hours in a cramped pilot’s seat and then floating unconscious for who-knows-how-long in the ocean. so she relaxes into the night, blissfully dreamless, until a blaring horn rudely yanks her back into reality.

over the obnoxious, drawn out tones, sana registers shifting from the bed across the room. one of the girls that had found her -- the one who hadn’t been centimeters from sana’s face the night before, close enough for sana to see herself in the other’s irises -- sits up, blinking blearily as she pats at her friend’s shoulder. “mina. hey, mina, wake up.”

sana’s english is lousy at best, but she knows a name when she hears one. she mulls it over as mina makes a sound halfway between a whine and a grunt. the other girl shakes her, and mina finally lifts her head from the pillow. her hair is everywhere, a curtain of it obscuring most of her face except for the slight pout tugging at her mouth. sana can’t see it from here, but she suddenly remembers that mina has a mole sitting just above her upper lip.

the other girl murmurs something else that escapes sana’s hearing; mina groans in response. this earns her a nudge in the shoulder. then her friend speaks some more english, tilting her chin in sana’s direction -- a gesture that sana needs no translation for. mina shifts her head in what might be a nod, but sana can’t tell from her angle. 

in either case, her friend is satisfied, and quickly finishes dressing before leaving the room. mina doesn’t move for a minute or two, but eventually sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed while arching her back in a stretch. as she’s relaxing, she opens her eyes, and finds sana’s in the next second. “oh, you’re already awake.”

sana nods as she gets up, too. she wonders how early it is for the light filtering through the window to have not yet shed the pastel shades of sunrise. 

mina’s shoulders rise and fall in a small sigh, as if she’s preparing herself for a speech. then she clears her throat. “i suppose that we should set some ground rules.”

sana nods. “alright.”

“momo and i have to work all day,” mina begins -- she’s clearly still half asleep and probably didn’t mean to say the other girl’s name, but sana applies the label in her head accordingly. “we want to keep you out of sight whenever possible, so please stay in this room while we’re away. you can of course go to the washroom.” she pauses. “are you good at english?”

sana shakes her head.

“alright, don’t try to talk to anyone,” says mina. “they probably won’t try to talk to you, anyway. we’ll bring you food during meal times, so again, just stay here until we can think of a way to get you off of this island.”

sana nods. “thank you.” she glances around the room. “but i’m curious about something.”

mina tilts her head, and the glowing remnants of dawn bathe the question in her eyes with warm honey. 

sana’s heart jolts at the sight, but she pushes through the sudden imbalance to continue speaking. “is there something i can do while i wait? i’m going to lose my mind just sitting around doing nothing.”

mina hesitates, eyes now scanning the room for options. then momo returns, a plate of food in each hand. she starts to speak, but then blinks at sana; she clears her throat and says in japanese, “here’s breakfast. mina, i got some for you, too. you’d better eat now, or we’ll be late.”

sana can’t help the thought that escapes her lips as momo sets the plate down in front of her. “you’re finished eating already? it’s barely been five minutes.”

momo grins. “it’s either eat or be eaten, you know.”

sana looks down at the food: eggs, some slightly burnt sausages, what looks like toast -- “oh, there’s no rice?”

“that’s not really the staple here,” says momo, and holds a fork out to sana like it’s an apology. “it’s something you’ll have to get used to for a little while.”

momo is more sincere than sana had predicted from her bristly behavior the night before. and it is just rice, after all -- in the grand scheme of things, being stranded in hostile territory thousands of kilometers from home should be much higher on sana’s list of concerns. she looks up again. “it’s alright, i was just thinking out loud. thank you for the meal.” she smiles as brightly as she can. 

mina drops her fork. the other two jump a little at the sudden clatter; mina clears her throat as she sets the utensil more carefully on top of her plate. “i’m sorry. shall we go? i can finish eating on the way.”

“sure.” momo lifts a hand to wave at sana. “take your time. we’ll be back with lunch!”

“but --” the door shuts before sana can finish. she sighs, looking down at her plate again. “what is there to do until then?” 

a large part of her wants to sneak out and see if there is a plane on the island that she can hijack and fly away in. but one look out the window reveals grounds heavily frequented by soldiers, and her close encounter from last night is still fresh in her mind. sana refuses to conclude that she will never be able to leave, but it’s difficult not to think otherwise when she has nothing to distract her.

once she finishes eating, sana decides that anything inside the room is fair game for poking around in. the first thing she notices is the radio sitting on mina’s nightstand. sana finds the switch and flips it a few times, but the speakers remain silent. humming, sana picks it up and turns it on its side, noting where the screws fasten the back panel to the rest of the frame.

she pulls open the nightstand drawer and picks carefully through the items: a small notebook, some pencils already sharpened down to stubs, a dog-eared japanese-english dictionary. she spots a pocket knife in the back corner and grabs it. the blade flips out with a flick of her wrist, and she uses it as a makeshift screwdriver. seconds later, she sets the panel aside, examining the radio’s insides.

the battery is easy enough to remove, and the other parts slowly but methodically follow. sana tears empty pages from the back of the notebook and smoothes them out on the bedspread, sorting the radio components onto their respective papers and occasionally penciling notes about their arrangements so she doesn’t forget later. when she pulls out the final piece, she grins as she spots the broken fuse poking from it. 

“i see that you’ve made yourself at home.”

sana looks up. momo closes the door behind her, another plate in hand. “mina has to work through lunch,” momo explains as she approaches the bed, casting a curious gaze over the results of sana’s morning. “is there any reason you’re destroying her property?”

“i’m not destroying it,” sana huffs, accepting the plate and clean fork that momo passes over to her. “i’m trying to fix it.”

momo raises her eyebrows. “are you some kind of engineer?”

“some kind of,” sana agrees. “i usually work with much larger machines.”

“like planes,” says momo, and sana nods as she cautiously combs through the pile of beans accompanying her baked potato. momo crosses her arms, eyes narrowed. “but you don’t work for your country’s military?”

sana gives a careful shrug. “my planes are meant for commercial flights. but the army took over the factory to manufacture military aircraft instead, and it was boring because they wouldn’t let me improvise. so i started building and testing planes for myself, like the one i was flying when i crashed here.”

“i see.” momo bends down to pick up sana’s breakfast plate from the floor. “does that mean your family’s a big deal over in japan, then?”

sana can’t help tensing at the mention, but she’s also accustomed to covering her discomfort with a confident grin. “let’s just say that i’d definitely have no problem paying you any amount of hush money.”

momo nods. “if only your currency were of any use here.” she heads back to the door, but stops with one hand on the knob. “so, are you planning to put that back together?” 

“it would help if i had actual tools,” sana says as she glances at the spread of radio parts. “but in any case, i’m not intending to leave it broken.” 

momo shoots her a brief smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.” 

“um,” says sana, and momo pauses again. sana swallows. “you won’t -- you know. you’ll still help me, right?”

“we’re trying,” says momo. she returns her gaze to the door, back facing sana as she stares at her hand on the doorknob. “i’m honestly not sure why, but we’re trying.”

sana fidgets. “well, thank you. i really do appreciate that, and i owe you my life either way.”

momo glances back again, flashing a grin. “send us a plane, and maybe we can call it even.” she twists the doorknob before sana can reply, and is gone with the click of the door shutting behind her.

sana fiddles around with the radio parts for another hour or two, but there are many limitations to what she can do with only the pocket knife. she ends up flipping through the dictionary next, looking up the english versions of “hello” and “funny-tasting beans” and “thank you for pulling me out of the ocean”. the front pages of the notebook from the nightstand are also written in english, but sana decides to leave those words undefined.

momo returns alone at dinner time. sana has moved her workspace to the floor, so she can sit on top of the comforter while she examines her latest meal. momo sits on the other bed, grunting a little as she stretches out a crick in her neck.

“so, are the two of you soldiers?” sana asks, because she’s only a little desperate to hold a conversation with someone besides herself, or a particularly finicky bundle of radio wires.

momo shakes her head. “we’re translators. for things like intercepted radio transmissions, and sometimes interrogations.”

mina chooses that moment to enter. she pauses as the other two both turn to look at her, and then holds out a bundle wrapped in brown paper to sana. “here.”

“oh, for me?” sana sets her plate aside to accept the package. “can i open it?”

“you’re only borrowing it,” says mina as she sits down next to momo. “but you can open it now, if you want.”

sana tears at the paper, gasping a little when she sees the array of tools inside. “wow, you really went and found some?” she looks up and beams at mina. “i’ll definitely be able to fix your radio now.”

mina glances away, folding her hands together before placing them in her lap -- it’s rather adorable, if sana takes the time to think about it. “momo told me earlier that you were looking for proper tools. and now at least you’ll have something to do.”

“although you’ll only have tomorrow to use it,” momo adds.

sana shrugs. “it shouldn’t take more than a day.” then she stops. “wait. does that mean i’ll get to leave tomorrow?”

“that’s right,” momo says, grinning. “there happens to be a japanese patrol ship that will be passing by about twenty miles from here tomorrow night. it can take you an hour or so by motorboat to get near their route, and once they notice you, they can take you on board, and then get you home.”

sana nods slowly. “but how will i get a boat, and how will i make sure they don’t attack me when they first see me?”

“you can wave a white flag,” says momo. “they know that we’re here, and we know that they’re there, but we’re not going to shoot at each other for no reason. so when they see you, they’ll be cautious enough to hold their fire until they figure out who you are. as for the boat, it’ll be easy enough to steal from the docks, and not so precious that the lieutenant will take a great amount of effort trying to find it.”

“that’s great.” sana lets herself grin, then. “will this actually work?”

mina finally speaks up. “it will have to. if you really want to stay out of trouble, the lieutenant can’t find out that you’re here. so the sooner you get off of this island, the better. ”

“right.” sana looks between the two of them. then she stands up and bows low. “thank you, so much. for everything.”

momo coughs. “well, you shouldn’t thank us until after you’ve left. and it was all mina’s idea, in any case.”

sana straightens and grins at the girl still sitting with a posture probably better than most princesses. “thank you. thank you both.”

“don’t mention it.” mina doesn’t meet sana’s gaze as she stands, clearing her throat. “i’m going for a walk. i’ll be back before curfew.”

sana watches mina leave, and wonders how seriously she should take the sudden stutter in her chest. 

shortly after, the room falls into an easy silence. momo lounges on her bed, flipping through a battered paperback, while sana returns to the radio, freshly equipped. after mina returns and they’ve all gone to bed, sana’s mind spends hours buzzing with the prospect of being able to return to japan. she does fall asleep eventually, but so late into the night that the morning bugle only shocks her awake for a few seconds before she dozes off again.

when sana finally opens her eyes, the sun is hot on the other side of the windowpane. she sits up, yawning as she takes in the empty room. the door swings open, and momo steps in. “it’s about time you decided to wake up.”

sana hums as she shakes off the residual drowsiness. “i couldn’t fall asleep last night.”

“that’s alright, you’ll be up pretty late tonight, anyway.” momo drops onto her own bed. “there’s breakfast on the nightstand.”

sana turns to see a similar plate of eggs and sausage, although the toast has some jam spread on it this time. “you don’t have to work today?”

“i have a half-shift, and not until later tonight,” momo says. she notices sana pause at the small wrapped square next to the fork. “mina left that for you.”

sana picks it up and peels away the wax paper, staring at the achingly familiar sweet now resting in her palm. her chest tightens, and she swallows to try and clear it. “you have this, but not rice?”

“mina’s mother sent a box of it to her a few weeks ago,” says momo. sana’s back is turned, but she thinks she hears momo smiling. “mina hadn’t even touched it yet because she wanted to save it, but she finally opened the box this morning.” when sana still doesn’t say anything, momo laughs. “is it that surprising? we can have japanese snacks in the states, too.”

“yes, of course,” sana mumbles, thinking of how a girl she hasn’t been able to get more than a dozen impersonal sentences out of is still able to care so much. she sets the sweet back down, still partially in its wrapping, and picks up her fork. 

“you can thank mina later,” momo says, and sounds only a little smug.

sana hums, tapping the end of the fork against her chin. “you’re right, i can.” she chews thoughtfully, turning her head to examine the array of radio parts by the bed she already knows by heart. 

as soon as she’s done eating, she gets back to work -- only sporadically interrupted by momo, who supplies helpful commentary like, “i hope you meant to snap that part in two,” and “don’t kill yourself trying to fix it; it’s still slightly less convenient to bury a dead body on this island than it is to smuggle a live one off of it.” but this is what sana is most thankful for, perhaps -- that momo protests and gripes and scowls, and still willingly makes idle conversation with sana for hours on end. it’s easy, and comfortable, and makes sana think that this entire disaster is perhaps just a dream she’ll wake up from, but think fondly of, often.

the hours pass by much more quickly than they had the previous day; before sana knows it, momo is setting dinner in front of her. “i have to leave for my shift soon,” momo says as she holds out another fork. “so i suppose that this will be the last we see of each other.”

sana sets her utensil down and stands up. “you don’t have to hide your excitement, you know.”

momo clicks her tongue and crosses her arms, looking away. “mina and i can get in serious trouble for literally hiding the enemy in our bedroom for the past two days.” her eyes shift back to meet sana’s briefly. “but in terms of people who could have washed up on the beach, you weren't the worst one we could have rescued.”

sana giggles. “i’m flattered.” she steps forward, arms open. “so, can i give you a hug?”

momo stares for a moment. but if there’s anything sana has learned in the past two days, it’s that momo will eventually give in. 

momo sighs, raising her arms slightly. “if you make it quick.”

sana pulls the other girl close as soon as momo is within range. she props her chin on momo’s shoulder as she says, “thank you. really. i’ll never be able to say it enough.”

“then stop saying it,” momo grumbles, clasping her hands together and resting them on the ridge of sana’s spine. “just get home safely, okay?”

“okay,” says sana. she steps back, grinning. “i also have a gift for you.”

“a gift?” momo frowns. “when did you go out? you shouldn’t have gone out. what if someone saw you?”

“i got it here, silly. i made it myself.” sana pulls a piece of paper from her pocket and presents it. 

momo takes the slip, which has clearly been ripped out from mina’s notebook. she squints at the penciled writing. “what’s this?”

“a ticket to board my airplane,” sana says, letting herself smirk just a little. “i’m going to expand minatozaki airlines internationally once i take over for my father, so you’ll be able to redeem that, one day.”

momo stares at the sheet for a second or two longer. “thanks,” she finally says, voice soft, and carefully folds the paper into quarters before tucking it into the paperback on her nightstand. she looks up at sana again, smiling. “i’m holding you to that, alright?”

“yes, ma’am,” says sana, saluting. “don’t you need to go now? you can’t be late for your shift.”

momo laughs, returning the gesture. “it was good meeting you.” she pauses. “so, your last name is minatozaki?”

sana had forgotten that while she’d picked up the names of the other two, she’d never given either of them hers. so she nods, not even trying to hold back her smile. “but you can call me sana.”

“sana,” momo repeats, mostly to herself. she walks to the door, but turns back one last time. “it was good to meet you, sana.”

“you too,” sana says softly as the door swings shut. she stays standing in the middle of the room, taking in the small rectangle of space she’d gotten to know over the past two days. letting out a long breath, she settles on the floor and picks up her plate.

mina doesn’t return until a few hours after the floodlights outside flicker off. she nods at sana, who is sitting on the bed with the dictionary open in her lap. “we’ll be able to leave soon. the patrols are switching, so we have a little more time to sneak past them.”

“i’m about ready,” sana says, setting the dictionary back on the nightstand and standing up. “i said goodbye to momo already, and i figure that i should do it properly with you here, too, before we leave.”

“oh.” mina blinks. “alright.” she looks down at the ground, and then up to meet sana’s gaze. “goodbye?”

sana can’t hold back a laugh. “not like that. actually, we can’t even say goodbye if we haven’t said hello, right?” she bows her head. “nice to meet you, i’m minatozaki sana.”

“myoui mina,” mina says automatically. “sana, you don’t have to do this. did you do this with momo, too?”

“sort of,” says sana. “i technically hugged her goodbye first, and then gave her my gift, and then introduced myself. i did it all backwards, but i’ll do it in the right order for you.”

“oh,” mina says again. her hands twitch at her sides.

“so, here’s yours.” sana bends down to pick up the radio by her feet. then she straightens, beaming at mina. “my gift for you, i mean.”

mina accepts the radio. she flips the switch, eyes widening slightly when coherent words crackle from the speakers. “you actually fixed it.”

“of course i did,” says sana, thinking that she’s imagined the crack in mina’s voice. she steps forward, leaning towards the other girl to point out the dial. “i also marked my favorite channel.”

mina stares at the tiny scratch mark. “the stations here won’t be the same as the ones in japan.” she twists the knob to the notch, and static greets her. 

“i know.” sana’s grin widens. “but this frequency isn’t my favorite because of the content.” 

mina looks up. “1230 kilohertz?”

“my birthday is december twenty-ninth,” sana says. “but the frequencies only increase by tens, so i picked the closest one.”

mina lowers the radio, thumb rubbing over the scratch. “i don’t mind, but can i ask why?”

sana shrugs. “just something to remember me by, i guess.” 

mina flicks the switch again, and the radio quiets. one corner of her mouth quirks; sana realizes that she hasn’t seen mina smile before, and wishes briefly that she’d had more time to know it better. because while momo already feels like an old friend, mina is someone sana still only has bits and pieces of, someone she will only remember in flashes: the first face she had seen upon waking in hostile territory, the not-a-soldier who had chased after her to become the strongest shield despite shaking limbs and terrified eyes, the girl who had shared a sweet square of home when sana couldn’t be farther from hers.

“thank you,” mina says.

“no, i’m the one thanking you,” says sana, and she wonders why it still doesn’t sound like enough. “i owe you for, well, everything.” sana follows mina with her gaze as the other girl returns the radio to its spot on the nightstand, and then picks up the dictionary and slides it back into the drawer. 

mina turns to face sana again, clearing her throat as she crosses her arms. she shifts, and then unfolds her arms again, fingers twitching before finding the hem of her uniform to worry at instead. her hair is tied back in a bun, so there’s nothing to block sana from seeing how red her ears have turned. “so, um. next.”

“next,” sana repeats. “we should go now, right? before the patrols finish switching.”

mina doesn’t say anything for a few moments, only blinking at sana. then she shuffles her feet again. “right. so i suppose we should say goodbye, now. before we have to sneak out.”

“oh, yes.” sana smiles; she knows exactly what mina is expecting, because if there is one good thing her parents have taught her, it’s how to read people. 

but sana bows low, instead. first, because she is infinitely more thankful than words can ever describe. and second, because hugging mina is not a pandora’s box she wants to open when she’ll be off the island within the hour and waking from this strangely, achingly wonderful dream. “it was good to meet you, mina.”

when she straightens, mina is still standing, arms half raised. sana unsuccessfully ignores their tug on her heart, especially in the face of mina’s brow furrowing like she’s trying to parse out all of sana’s secrets. but the sight of it under the brim of mina’s uniform cap suddenly slaps sana in the face.

the bubble this room had cast around her abruptly pops, and she can only hope that no matter where the war goes, that mina will still be here at the end of it for sana to miss. 

sana collects herself. she smiles again. “shall we go?”

mina clears her throat, nodding. “yes, we can go.”

\--

the night is black when the two slip out of the barracks and make their way down to the docks. luckily, mina is familiar enough with the path, having walked it just hours earlier as many times as she could without drawing suspicion.

sana follows her silently, fingers grasping the edge of mina’s sleeve. sometimes her knuckles bump against the inside of mina’s forearm; even with the cloth in between, mina’s skin burns along each spot of tentative contact.

the dark shapes of the boat houses along the shoreline eventually loom into view. mina quickly leads them to the nearest one, eyes straining in the dark for the outline of the door. the key she’d lifted from the lieutenant’s office earlier that day weighs heavily in her pocket, and she rushes a little faster.

“mina,” sana hisses suddenly. “there are people coming.”

mina freezes. she looks over her shoulder, spotting a beam of light swaying back and forth as it approaches the docks. they’re walking too fast; there is nowhere to hide except inside the boathouse, but mina won’t be able to unlock it quickly or silently enough. so she does the only thing she can think of. “play along, okay?”

“what?” sana yelps when mina suddenly grabs her arm, linking their elbows together just as the light falls on them.

“hey, what are you two doing?”

the beam shines directly at their faces, but mina is still able to make out the features of the soldier in front. he isn’t one that she recognizes, but maybe a stranger is better. she puts on her prettiest smile. “sorry, sir, we were just going out for a walk.”

his voice remains gruff. “you know you aren’t supposed to be out right now. you can get into serious trouble.”

“we know, we know.” mina nods quickly. “my friend here just opened an upsetting letter from home, and really needed the fresh air.” she turns towards sana, who honestly does look about two seconds away from tearing up. mina inches closer, reaching with her free hand to gently guide sana’s head onto her shoulder. “it’ll be alright. i know it’s hard,” she murmurs. and maybe by some miracle, sana seems to understand both the situation and her english, because the other girl takes the cue to tuck her face into the crook of mina’s neck. her shoulders even heave with a convincingly shaky inhale.

the soldier wavers slightly, boots shifting as he glances back at his companions. mina hopes their expressions are just as uncomfortable as his is. sana lets out another quivering breath, for effect. 

finally, he clears his throat. “look, you still shouldn’t be out here.” 

“we’re truly very sorry, sir,” mina says again. she pats sana’s head a couple of times. “we’ll return to the barracks right away, and get out of your hair.”

“right.” he nods. “i, uh. yes. we’ll -- we’ll walk you there.” he jerks his head, and two of the other soldiers step forward.

mina shoots him an appropriately grateful smile before nudging sana to turn around. they slowly shuffle their way back the way they’d come, arms linked so tightly together now that mina’s not sure where hers ends and sana’s begins. besides the shuffle of boots behind them, mina takes note of several other patrols they pass on their way back, the hope inside her chest leaching out with each receding footstep. 

once they reach mina’s building, she thanks their two escorts before ushering sana inside. sana slumps against mina as soon as the door shuts behind them. “that was a close one.”

“yes,” says mina grimly. she leans back against the wall, arm slipping away from sana’s to hang limply at her side. “and we just lost our only chance to get you off this island.”

“that’s alright,” sana says. “we can always try again.”

mina shakes her head. “not tonight, because the patrols will be too tight now. and the ship we wanted to get you on won’t be passing by here for another three weeks.”

“oh,” says sana, and falls quiet.

mina pushes herself off of the wall. “we’ll think of something. right now, let’s just get some sleep.” sana probably nods, but mina is suddenly too tired to look. 

when they return to mina’s room, momo is sprawled out on top of her bed, snoring lightly. she’s still in her uniform, and hadn’t even bothered to get under the covers; she must have just recently returned from her shift, and maybe even tried to wait for mina before falling asleep. mina wonders absentmindedly why momo hadn’t just napped earlier if she had been planning to stay up.

mina sighs -- the barest exhale from her nose -- and readies herself to rearrange momo’s limbs without waking her. but then sana tugs on her jacket sleeve. “just sleep in your own bed for tonight,” sana murmurs. “i don’t kick or anything.”

mina stills. 

sana covers a yawn with her free hand and tugs again -- both at mina’s heart and the sleeve mina hopes to not be wearing it on. “okay,” mina says. 

the two of them are too exhausted to even bother changing out of their clothes, simply slipping under opposite ends of the covers. mina turns so that her back faces sana, curling as close to the edge of her side of the mattress as possible. she hears shifting, and figures that sana is mirroring her position.

the events of the night finally have the time to wash over her, and mina resists the urge to scream. sana can’t stay here for three more weeks; it is only a matter of time before she gets discovered, and she can’t even speak english properly. mina needs her bed back, she and momo need their lives back, and sana needs to return to her own country -- but mina is fresh out of ideas.

she settles onto her back, carefully folding her hands behind her head. a stripe of moonlight cuts across the ceiling, and she imagines tracing it from where it streams in from the crack between their drawn curtains. then sana shifts, too. the sheets rustle as she rolls over to face mina, and the deep sigh she releases in her sleep blows against mina’s ear. 

mina stiffens. 

there is still space between them: an inch or two, maybe even three. but mina’s entire side is now blazing, every nerve in her existence dedicating itself to sana and how near she is. mina wonders if this is how magnets feel when they’re held just far enough apart: hovering on the edge of undeniable attraction, vibrating against the entire universe as they struggle to meet their other half.

sana stirs, curling closer still, and it will take just one movement for mina to turn over and stroke sana’s hair, or to let sana tuck her head fully under mina’s chin.

but mina doesn’t. her eyes flicker back to the singular moonbeam leading out the window. she imagines sana riding it all the way to japan, safely out of reach and leaving behind nothing but a trail of fire branded onto mina’s skin.

if momo notices the lack of sleep on mina’s face the next morning, she makes no comment. 

to her credit, momo also takes sana’s continued presence in perfect stride, bringing back two breakfast plates and a promise to get mina a day off so she can have some actual rest. “and come up with a plan b,” momo adds under her breath before she leaves. mina can only nod. 

“did you sleep well?” sana asks after the room falls back into silence. 

mina gives a halfhearted shrug. “did you?”

sana hums. “you can sleep more now, if you want. i promise to be quiet.”

mina shakes her head. “it’s alright. i’ll probably just read.” she pauses. “or listen to my radio, i suppose, now that it’s working.”

“right.” sana brightens at the mention, and mina finds a sudden interest in the remaining bits of egg on her plate. sana’s fork clatters against her own dish as she sets it down. “is there anything else you need me to fix?”

mina shakes her head. “that’s all we have in this room, unfortunately. but,” she pauses. “if you’re going to be here for a while, it might not hurt to learn some english.”

“oh, yes!” sana leans across from her side of the bed to pull out mina’s nightstand drawer. “i was reading through your dictionary.” she grabs the book and rolls onto her back, head landing close to mina’s thigh. she holds the dictionary above her face as she flips mindlessly through the pages. “how...are...you...today?”

mina can’t help the laugh that escapes. she quickly covers her mouth with a hand, but it’s too late: sana is already looking up at her with wounded eyes and pouting lips. mina clears her throat, straightening her expression. “that was pretty good.”

“no, it wasn’t,” sana whines. she sets the book aside and reaches for mina’s elbow, fingers wrapping around and tugging. “you laughed! i’m hurt, miss myoui.”

mina vaguely wonders when they’d moved from sana bowing in lieu of a hug to sana now half a turn from rolling fully into mina’s lap. but she can do this -- be closer with sana like she already is with momo. even if momo has never made mina’s heart push up into her throat to block her from swallowing her last bite of breakfast.

sana huffs, releasing her grip on mina and sitting up. “fine, i’ll just learn by myself. english can’t be that hard, can it?”

“alright, alright. here, let me help.” mina sets her plate aside and holds out a hand for the dictionary. “i’m sorry for laughing, okay?” 

“okay.” sana’s pout reverses as quickly as it had appeared. she reaches for the nightstand drawer again, this time retrieving mina’s notebook. “we’ll need paper, right?”

mina nods, watching as sana immediately flips to the back, smoothing out a clean page before holding out both the notebook and pencil. “let’s start.”

mina hums. “what do you want to learn first?”

sana crosses her arms. “tell me what i said wrong before. just now, when you laughed.”

mina feels the corners of her mouth pushing her cheeks up again, but she manages to keep her expression straight this time. “you said the right words, but your pronunciation was funny.”

“how am i supposed to say it, then?” sana presses. mina repeats the phrase in english, slowly, and sana leans closer, staring like she’s trying to memorize the exact way mina’s lips move. after a few repeats, she sits back, letting out a loud exhale. “this isn’t helping. you don’t move your mouth enough when you talk.”

mina raises her eyebrows. “of course i move my mouth when i talk.”

“but not enough,” sana insists. “even when you speak japanese, it just looks like you’re pushing words through your teeth, and maybe your lips kind of twitch around them once in a while.” 

mina scoffs. “alright, then.” she takes the notebook and carefully writes out the english, letter by letter. “let’s do it this way.” then she hesitates.

“what?” sana’s arm bumps against mina’s elbow as she peers over to stare at the words. “i can’t read english either, you know.”

“i know,” says mina, struggling to remember the japanese phonetic characters she’d learned years and years ago. finally deciding that she’d be able to get close enough, she begins writing each one under the corresponding english syllable. “just say them like you’d say these.”

sana giggles after a few moments. “where did you learn your hiragana?”

mina feels her cheeks warm. “the last time i went to school for this was when i was a kid, okay? it can’t be that bad.”

“you did your best,” sana says with a comforting pat on mina’s writing hand. “isn’t your job here to be a translator, though?”

“all the japanese we get is by audio, and we can write the translations directly in english,” mina huffs as she sets the pencil down. “which ones did i write incorrectly?”

sana hums. she picks up the pencil and begins to circle. “this one. and this one. oh, this one too.”

mina shuts her eyes and holds back a groan. “never mind. just read it, please.”

“how are...you today,” sana recites, and then glances at mina. mina doesn’t even register the grin on her own face until sana’s breaks out in full force. “i did well, didn’t i?”

“it was better,” mina allows. she looks back down at the paper in between them, and tries not to feel offended when she sees all but two characters circled. 

“how about this,” says sana, and mina grudgingly decides that she likes the way sana’s voice tilts up when she’s teasing. “if you teach me how to speak, i’ll teach you how to write.”

mina nods, and sana claps happily. neither anticipates just how quickly the hours and days will pass sitting side by side like this, in a two-person room that has been meant for three all along.

the push for the next scheme to get sana off the island is always hanging above them, of course. mina and sana and momo spend night after night trying to think of different japanese routes they might intercept, or ways to collect scraps together and maybe build a boat or plane of their own -- but none of them have a higher chance of success than simply waiting out the three weeks and trying mina’s original plan again.

mina will be the last one to say it out loud, but sometimes she finds herself wondering whether the drive has gradually lessened for sana, too. it would explain why the three start to spend their free time together trading stories and jokes instead of focusing on the reality waiting just outside of that room.

of course, peace is only an illusion when the ocean around them continues to soak red with each day’s rising sun. 

momo whispers it to mina upon returning with breakfast one morning: a terrible typhoon struck the coast of the philippines a few days ago, and as much as a third of the united states’ third fleet is lost. with the pacific front having been quiet for most of the month, the throbbing tension that smothers the entire base in light of this news bears down on mina from all sides, even behind the safety of their closed door.

sana chooses this moment to link her arm with mina’s limp one. “i’m ready! let’s go outside, minari.”

mina clears her throat. “maybe another day would be better. the atmosphere isn’t the best right now.”

“the weather is fine,” says sana. she leans into mina a little, now hanging off of the younger girl’s arm. “you promised last night, remember? even ten minutes will be enough. i just need to walk somewhere that isn’t the hallway or the bathroom.”

“mina,” momo warns, because she can already see mina weighing the options.

“five minutes,” mina decides anyway. “we’ll just walk around the building, and then we’re coming straight back.” sana steps away so that she can pump her fist in victory, and mina ignores momo’s sigh in favor of telling sana that normal people shouldn’t be this excited to take a walk around a military base.

sana is correct about the weather, of course -- it hardly ever changes this close to the equator, and will never take into account the tensions humans create for themselves. so to sana, the sky is the perfect shade of unclouded blue, and the breeze cools her skin just enough to relieve the stuffiness of staying indoors for over a week.

halfway through their lap around the long barrack building, mina begins to think that their excursion will remain uneventful. but then she sees a crowd of soldiers up ahead, and her heart slowly sinks.

she immediately recognizes yuta nakamoto, the boy momo had introduced months ago as from the same camp the rest of momo’s family is still interred at back in the states. the soldiers surrounding him are looking for trouble, venom dripping from their sneers as they shove him back and forth. 

sana is in the middle of a sentence, but mina immediately squeezes her hand to stop her. sana turns her attention to the scene up ahead. “what’s happening?”

“quiet,” mina hisses. “don’t draw attention.”

“but they’re bullying him,” sana whispers back. “can’t we stop them?”

mina tightens her jaw, clenching her free fist until her fingernails bite into her palm. maybe if there were fewer soldiers, or maybe if momo was also here. but she sees a red in the crowd’s eyes that glints meaner than any bloodlust, and it hurts that she has to trust yuta to heal from the bruises that are sure to follow. “i can’t.”

“why not?” sana asks, but mina doesn’t answer her. she quickly pulls sana back the way they’d come, around to the side of the building closest to the surrounding jungle. it’s not until they turn the corner, safely out of sight, that sana manages to tug her hand from mina’s vice grip. “mina, answer me.”

mina glances down at her now uncurled fingers, the stiffness from tightening them so harshly around sana’s finally settling in. she lets out a long exhale, dropping her hand. “it’s complicated.”

“i have time,” says sana, crossing her arms. “if you don’t tell me now, i’m going to run back there and save that poor boy.”

something inside mina snaps. “you can’t save him, sana. you can’t even speak english properly.”

sana stills. 

mina swallows. “sorry.” sana doesn’t blink, and mina forces another lump back down her throat. “i’m sorry. i’ll explain.” 

sana is still glaring, but she gives a small nod. “go on.”

“people like yuta --” mina takes a deep breath. “people like that boy, or me, or momo. it’s hard for us right now, in this country, to look the way we do and have our parents be where they’re from, and also have to fight in this war.” she meets sana’s eyes. “do you get what i mean?”

“but you’re american,” sana says after a moment. “just like they are.”

“yes,” says mina, “but even you thought momo and i were japanese.”

sana lowers her gaze, chin dipping towards her chest so that mina can’t make out her expression. 

“it’s difficult,” says mina, “for them to fight alongside people who look just like the enemy. there are probably tens of thousands of people like us, or like our parents and grandparents, who have to stay in run-down camps instead of their own homes because the rest of the nation no longer trusts us.”

sana doesn’t lift her head. “then why are you fighting for them?”

“because we’re american,” says mina. “just like they are.”

sana says nothing. and in the quiet that follows, mina hopes that the sudden silence from around the corner of the building is not hanging above them like some ill omen. 

sana must hear it, too. “is it like this all the time?” 

“it’s better, usually,” mina says. “nothing much has been happening on our end of the war front. but then a typhoon somewhere else in the ocean costs us hundreds of lives, and the anger still has to go somewhere.”

sana’s gaze remains focused on the ground, but her shoulders tense at mina’s explanation. “a typhoon? then it wasn’t even japan’s fault. you can’t blame any human for that.”

mina shrugs. “you can blame any human for anything, just because you feel like it.”

“i see,” says sana softly. “you must suffer through a lot, here.”

“we’ll be alright,” mina offers. “and he will be, too. it’s something we’ve learned to live with.” she holds out her hand. “so, let’s go back inside?”

sana doesn’t move.

mina takes a step closer. “sana?”

sana finally looks up, eyes shining like she has understood each and every space between mina’s words. “i’m sorry.”

“there’s nothing to be sorry for,” mina says. “let’s just go back.”

sana shakes her head. “i can’t.”

mina frowns. “what do you mean, you can’t?”

“i can’t do this,” sana whispers, hoarse like there are tears blocking her throat. “i can’t be here anymore, mina, and add to all of this. i can’t do this to you, or to momo. i’m not supposed to be here -- this country isn’t even mine and i’m -- i’m sorry.”

“sana?” mina reaches for her hand, but sana turns away. “sana, wait --”

sana turns and dashes straight into the jungle. at first, mina can only stare. then her feet unroot themselves from the grass, and she takes off after. 

there is plenty of daylight left, but it’s harder to follow when even sana has no idea where she is headed. mina ducks under drooping branches and tangled vines, shoes scrambling for purchase in the damp loam blanketing the ground. she struggles to not lose sight of sana’s rapidly retreating back while also keeping an eye out for patches of mud or hidden tree roots rising above the undergrowth. 

but sana’s clothing -- mina’s uniform -- blends in well with the foliage, and being cooped up indoors has apparently boosted her agility even further. mina swats yet another branch out of her way, jerking her head to the side to avoid getting whipped in the face. on reflex, she squeezes her eyes shut, and doesn’t notice the rock until her toe runs straight into it.

mina crashes into the ground, landing heavily on her right side. she yells at the arc of pain that lances up her forearm. her momentum carries her further, but she manages to cradle her head with her already throbbing arm as she rolls. then she smashes into a fallen log, shouting again as her arm flies out and smacks against the dense, dead wood. 

the birds above continue to chirp -- or maybe it’s just her ears ringing. mina opens her eyes, but the leaves and dirt and the patches of sky visible through the treetops are blurring together into a new kind of kaleidoscope every time she blinks. she tries to lift her hand to rub at the back of her head, but the ache in her arm pulses bone-deep whenever she shifts even a single finger. she can’t focus on anything else.

“fuck,” says mina out loud, fighting to keep her eyes open. another pang shoots through her arm. if she can just figure out where the sky ends and the ground begins, bring it back into the clarity she normally has no trouble finding -- “fuck, that hurts.”

someone rushes towards her. in a second, her entire world becomes sana’s wide, wide eyes and soundless mouth. mina watches sana’s lips as they move, but the words they form refuse to reach her ears. 

_i want to hear you_ , mina thinks as the darkness at the edges of her vision creeps ever inward. _let me hear you_.

 _please_.

\--

sana doesn’t quite remember how she got out of the jungle and to the infirmary -- with a half-delirious mina draped over her shoulders, no less. 

minutes earlier, sana had been running away from many things: the terribly wrong side of the war she’d somehow landed on, momo and her friendship that came so fluidly regardless, mina and the dreams sana had foolishly thought might actually have a chance of coming true. now, she stumbles into the infirmary just as her brain settles on the one english word that she thinks can help mina get better. 

“please,” sana gasps. the nurse at the desk stares at two girls with leaves in their hair and tears in their uniforms, one of them spitting out one word over and over like it will be her saving grace. 

_please_.

mina thankfully becomes more coherent after the nurse sits her down on a cot, and explains her own situation between slow, panting breaths. sana occupies the chair next to her, refusing to leave even when the nurse tries to usher her out. the ward is mostly empty, so she finally leaves sana alone to fidget through mina getting whisked in and out of her sight for the next hour or so. when mina finally returns, her arm is bound in plaster, but her cheeks are already a little less pale. 

“it’s just a fracture,” mina tells sana softly. “i’ll be okay.”

sana’s hand moves on its own: reaching for mina’s cast, craving the certainty that mina is still whole. but then she realizes, and returns it to her lap. “does it hurt?”

“not so much anymore,” mina says. “they gave me some painkillers. i’ll be fully healed in a month or two.” 

“that’s good.” sana knows that mina is looking at her, but she can’t bring herself to meet the other’s gaze.

“sana,” mina starts. then a shadow falls over them. 

a man stands at the foot of the bed. sana doesn’t recognize him, but his uniform is decorated, and the salute mina snaps into has sana hastily following suit. his eyes are gray and sharp, the cold gleam like a heavy metal piston driving sana deep beneath the ground, as if she is nothing compared to the weight of all he sees.

“mina myoui, is it?” he asks, turning his attention to mina.

“yes, sir,” mina says. she maintains her posture. even with her arm in a cast and having to look up at him from her seat on the bed, she meets his stare with one just as piercing.

sana hears the rest of their conversation in vague bursts of traded gunfire: curt clips delivered with surgical precision, each searching for just a single crack in the other’s impenetrable armor. but neither misses a beat. the air thickens so much that sana finds herself unable to breathe. the vocabulary she’d asked mina to teach her -- breakfast, beach, airplane, favorite person -- is useless now. but sana wonders if her stomach would be twisted in fewer knots if she did understand what they are saying.

the man finally turns on his heel, and sana almost misses her cue to salute again before he exits the room. as soon as the click of his boots no longer echoes in the hallway, mina slumps forward, resting her elbows on her knees. 

sana lets out a shaky exhale. “what just happened?” 

mina looks up. “it’s nothing. you’re safe. and,” she takes a breath, “i’ve figured out how to get you off of this island.”

“what?” sana frowns. “you just broke your arm. how can you be thinking about anything else at a time like this?”

mina’s smile is tired, but it still manages to ease the choking of sana’s heart. “i had to think of something to answer the lieutenant’s questions, and your escape was the first thing that came to mind. so it all worked out in the end.”

sana tilts her head. “what did you tell him?”

“that you’re an agent for the federal bureau of investigation,” mina says. “it’s a government intelligence agency,” she adds when sana can only stare blankly at her. “it’s still relatively new, and espionage related. which is mysterious enough for me to be able to tell him that on your way back from a mission, you had to make an emergency landing here without his knowledge. and soon, my father will be sending a plane for you to return to the states.”

sana sits back in her chair. “you told him that i’m an american spy?”

mina shrugs. “more or less.”

“wait.” sana closes her eyes, because after all that has happened, her head is finally beginning to hurt. “your father runs an american spy agency?”

“he’s not the top, but he’s high up enough,” says mina. “i still have to call him, of course, but it should be relatively easy for him to get you a plane. it will probably still take a week or two, but this is better than intercepting that japanese patrol route, or trying anything else by ourselves.”

sana shakes her head. “i can’t believe this. you can’t be serious.”

“it’ll work,” mina says. “the lieutenant knows about you now, so you don’t have to stay in our room all the time anymore. just lie low, i’ll talk to my father and get the details sorted, and you can be flying home before the new year.”

“but you’re lying about my nationality to your military, and demanding that your father do the same. and even asking him to give me an entire plane, on top of that,” sana insists. “there is no way he will agree to this.”

mina shrugs. “it will take some convincing, but i can do it.”

sana locks eyes with mina for a moment, and then drops her gaze to her own lap. her hands are already clasped together; sana feels her knuckles whiten as she tightens her grip on herself. “i would be asking him too much. i would be asking _you_ too much.”

“don’t think like that,” says mina, steady. “i want to do it. and i’ll be the one to worry about burdening my father. so don’t worry about that, either.”

mina sounds so sure of this, of her father and his sincerity, that sana can’t help it when an abandoned crevice in her heart suddenly flares to life. it twists cruelly through her entire body, threatening to drag her back down into an abyss she has only recently left behind. she presses her lips together and tries to focus on her breathing, to remember her way out. 

a song meanders its way through the darkness, and she latches onto it like the lifeline it’s always been. so when she looks up, she tries for a smile. “he must love you a lot. your father.”

the words mean more than mina will understand; sana’s eyes sting, but the weight of years upon years worth of tears is much too heavy to shed. mina sees it anyway, and perhaps mistakes it for homesickness. “of course he does. parents will always love their children.”

“they should.” sana looks down at her own lap again. “but i don’t think my mother would have ever thought to send me snacks. and my father will never listen to my problems, even if it’s a large one like being stranded among the enemy, in the middle of a war with the entire world.”

“they would,” says mina, her voice as gentle as always. “parents can be harsh, i know. but you’re their family. you’re their daughter. so of course they want you back, and safe. they must be wishing for it right this second, and in every second until you return.”

sana manages a smile. “yes,” she lies. “you’re right.” she stands up, holding out her elbow for mina to link hers with. “let’s get you back to your room.”

mina wants to continue the conversation, sana knows. she can see it in the furrow of mina’s brow and the way the corners of her mouth pull the downturn of her lips even further. but this is just mina’s thinking face. sana lets out a small sigh of relief when mina decides not to speak her thoughts out loud and allows sana to help her up from the bed.

the toxic, twinging crevice fades back into obscurity, and sana is happy to let it.

sana does feel a little vindication later that night when mina reveals her latest plan to momo, and momo asks mina if she’d hit her head harder than she’d hit her arm. but mina is relentless -- if facing down even the lieutenant has told sana anything. so momo eventually holds up her hands and drops the subject with a simple, “good luck.”

the next evening, mina returns to the room after dinner with a proud tilt to her smile; it would be insufferable on anyone else, and yet sana only feels the need to indulge her. but before she can even ask mina what has her looking so happy, mina beats her to the punch. “guess what?”

“what,” momo deadpans without even glancing up from her paperback.

“my father agreed,” mina says. “you’ll get your plane on the third of january.” 

momo drops her book on her face. sana stares. 

mina dips her head in a small, smug bow. “you’re welcome.”

“i can’t believe it.” sana’s whisper comes out hoarse. she clears her throat, and then says, louder, “i can’t believe it. i’m really -- i’m --”

“you’re really going home,” mina confirms. and then yelps when sana nearly bowls her over with a hug. 

“what i can’t believe is that your father actually agreed to this lunacy,” momo finally says. “how in the world did you convince him? the way he sees it, sana should be turned in immediately. in fact, he should be arresting me for helping to hide her for so long, and -- i don’t know, at least grounding you for the same.”

sana finds herself nodding. “i’m really glad that he didn’t decide to do any of that, of course. but momo does have a point.”

mina shrugs. “i just had to give him a convincing argument.”

momo stares. then she sighs, rolling her eyes. “right, i forgot that the only annoying thing about you is how stubborn you are.” she gives sana a nudge. “do you think it’s because she was born in the year of the ox?”

mina glares, momo sticks out her tongue, and sana can only laugh.

january third is still almost two weeks away. momo keeps a little calendar on her nightstand -- one with a page to tear off for each day that has passed. sheet by sheet, the packet thins for the rest of the week, and sana collects each discarded piece so that she can write out hiragana tests for mina on the back. it’s a fair trade, as she passes most of her days picking random pages of the dictionary to learn the words of so that mina can tease her on her pronunciation later.

sana still stays inside for the most part; she has no desire to interact with the other soldiers and translators, and the rumors that have somehow circulated about her alleged occupation give more than enough reason for her to be avoided, in turn. but sana also keeps track of the base’s busiest hours, and steps out from time to time, if only to remember how the sun feels on her face when there isn’t a pane of glass in between them -- and to stop herself from forgetting the hideously real world outside of mina and momo’s room.

she hopes that if she doesn’t forget, it will stop hurting whenever she gets reminded that all of this is only wishful thinking.

time passes still, and sana doesn’t even register that momo’s calendar reads the twenty-ninth of december until the other two return after dinner with a piece of cake and what looks like a bottle of wine. in fact, sana remains stunned even after she fully comprehends the scene before her.

“what?” mina asks, her smirk softened by the warm yellow glow of the three candles stuck into the cake slice. “you must celebrate birthdays in japan too, right?” 

sana manages a nod. 

mina nods, too. “momo even got some liquor from that private who refuses to take a hint.” momo winks, a goofy grin stretching her features as she shakes the bottle so that the liquid inside sloshes against the glass. 

tears prick at the corners of sana’s eyes. she rubs them away quickly with the back of her hand and manages to choke out a quiet, “thank you.”

“what’s wrong?” mina’s eyes widen, and sana would have giggled if she wasn’t so busy trying not to cry. “i’m sorry. i -- we didn’t mean to make you sad.”

sana laughs, although most of it clumps up in her throat. “i’m not sad. really.” she swallows, wiping away the tears and taking a deep breath. then she smiles, already anticipating the happy ache in her cheeks that is sure to come later. “i’m just really, really thankful.”

“okay,” mina says softly. she holds out the cake. “is it alright if we sing, then?”

sana nods quickly. “of course. thank you.” 

“hurry,” says momo, pulling sana closer. “the candles are going to melt soon.”

mina and momo wish her a happy birthday first in japanese, and then again in english, before sana gets to blow the candles out. momo scoops up the first bite of cake; mina starts to scold her until she sticks the fork into sana’s mouth instead. they hadn’t thought to bring glasses, so the three take turns drinking from the bottle.

it’s the best birthday sana has ever had, and she doesn’t realize that the capricious crevice in her heart has revived until she feels its nasty drumbeat inside her chest. it throbs and leaks molten lead, bleeding into sana’s limbs as surely as the night passes: a giant anchor dragging her thoughts down further and further, until she can’t find the strength to smile anymore.

“hey,” mina murmurs. momo had passed out on top of her own covers an hour or so before, but mina is sitting next to sana on the floor, their backs against the other bed. sana hums her question instead of asking it, and mina nudges sana’s elbow with her own. “is everything okay?”

sana finally sighs. the alcohol is long gone, but she feels a burn searing and thick as it chokes up the entire hollow of her chest. “i’m just so tired.”

mina runs a finger along the mouth of the now empty bottle. “of what?”

and sana almost tells mina, then. how japan is home only because she lives there, and not because her parents will miss her now that she is gone. she almost tells mina how her parents couldn’t have children, so her father found someone else to give him what the woman he’d married will never be able to. 

but sana still isn’t what her father wants, and her mother has no reason to call sana hers. they are her parents by law only: the father already moved on from the woman who’d given sana life to a painfully long chain of others to provide him with comfort, and the mother reduced to a dark, brooding specter haunting a house that only glitters because it is broken. 

“what are you so tired of?” mina asks again, setting the bottle aside so there is no longer anything wedged in between them.

sana lets out another breath, but it does nothing to lessen the weight inside of her. “of not being loved.”

mina stills.

“i’m sorry. now is not the time for this,” sana says. “thank you, mina. you’ve made my birthday a day when i can truly be happy.”

“please don’t be sad,” says mina suddenly. “on your birthday. please don’t be sad, anymore.”

sana looks up, pushing her cheeks into a smile. she wants to assure mina that she isn’t sad, not really; it’s just difficult to appreciate a day meant to celebrate an existence that her parents would much rather do without. but now, sana has realized that there are other opinions that should matter more. “it will be hard not to if you and momo aren’t there.”

in the bed across from them, the blankets shift. mina waits until momo lets out a small snore before she says, “we’ll always be thinking of you.”

“thank you.” sana hears her own laugh, sharp and frail -- but she means it. she looks down at her lap and sees the fingers of her hands, curled and distorted like a claw here to snatch her away from this room before she is ready. “i appreciate that.”

“every birthday, i’ll be thinking of you,” mina insists. her speech comes slower now, and quieter too, each syllable in danger of fluttering away before it can settle anywhere important. but sana catches and hangs onto each one like they’re the pieces of mina’s heart, and imagines laying it all out in front of them: disassembled parts of a broken radio. 

“every year, on this day,” says mina, “i’ll be thinking of you, even when you’re gone. and i’ll be thinking -- i’ll be hoping that today, you’ll be eating the food that you like, and doing the things that you enjoy, and spending time with the people who don’t have to try to make you smile.” 

mina trails off. and sana thinks that this is where it should stop -- as if she is marking, all over again, that particular frequency on the dial of mina’s radio heart: the numbers are close enough to hold some meaning, even if the exact digits will never be worth remembering.

but then mina says, “the kind of day that has someone wanting you to be happy, even if she’s on the other side of the entire planet -- that kind of day shouldn’t make you sad.” she swallows. “and i’ll always want that for you, you know. for all of your birthdays, and for all of the days that aren’t your birthday, too. so don’t be sad anymore.”

sana’s lungs push for air, but she can’t bear to give it to them just yet.

“please,” says mina.

there’s another beat. and then it hits sana that even if she had scratched a notch next to any other channel, mina wouldn’t have bothered to remember any date other than today’s. 

“mina,” sana whispers.

mina looks. her eyes shine with candlelight and the tremor of something that sana is too afraid to name.

it’s something that she is tired of not having, and she’d only had to wreck her plane on a tiny nameless island to find it. and sana wants, at this moment, nothing more than to not leave this bittersweet haven floating in the middle of a bloodstained ocean. because what she wants is to cup her fingers tenderly around the secret trembling in mina’s eyes, and hold it close to her ear so that it can sing her to sleep every night. 

“mina,” sana says with her entire heart. “i really wish i could kiss you.”

“oh,” says mina. she swallows. “me, too.” 

sana waits -- one shared exhale -- and then slowly lowers her head onto mina’s shoulder. mina doesn’t pull away; her cheek rests gently against the top of sana’s hair, as if she is afraid sana will disappear, now that they have said out loud everything that had been threatening to choke them in the silence.

the air presses in, centimeters from strangling them with the very words they have spoken. sana wonders if this is truly any better than before. but mina is still here, the curve of her shoulder solid and warm, and it’s like she has never been meant to fit anywhere else. 

so sana lets her eyes close; because if this isn’t any better, it is at least not any worse. 

they dream hopelessly as the night passes, building a glimmering glass house together out of longing touches and softly giggled secrets, and day after endless day of shared tomorrows -- until the blare of the morning bugle shatters their fragile desires into a million shards. 

\--

four days before sana’s birthday, mina spent christmas without her parents for the first time. 

still, she will admit that trying to explain the concept of santa claus to sana while cheesy holiday songs from her brother’s radio played in the background had probably made for a better celebration than anyone else on the base could manage. sana is still not wholly convinced that american children could believe a magical rotund man dressed in red travels the entire world in one night to pass out presents to those he personally defines as “nice”; momo always responds by saying that sana is just jealous that his reindeer can fly faster than any of her airplanes.

in general, mina isn’t used to holidays coming and going without so much as an acknowledgement; but she has already forgotten that saturday and sunday used to be the days she could pass without working. and today, mina doesn’t think about how it’s exactly a week after christmas -- she simply finishes a long night shift and an early call with her father to confirm that sana’s plane is on its way.

january first arrives not as the first day of the new year, but as the start of a forty-eight hour countdown to sana leaving the island forever. 

sana is already awake when mina returns; momo’s watch had stopped working the day before, and sana is now laid out on the floor, attempting to fix it. momo has already left for her shift, so mina drops onto the other girl’s empty bed and lies back. she throws her good arm over her eyes to block out the warm daylight spilling in through the open window.

“i can close the curtains,” sana offers. “or go out somewhere else to work, so you can get some sleep.”

“it’s alright,” says mina, not bothering to move her arm or open her eyes. “you can stay.”

“are you sure?” sana’s frown lands loudly in mina’s ears, and mina immediately wants to wish it away.

“i’m sure,” mina says. “i… don’t sleep that well in the dark.”

“really?” sana scoffs. “that’s weird.” 

mina makes some noncommittal noise. she is too tired to argue or try to explain that even though she still has trouble relaxing whenever sana is in bed next to her, it’s more difficult to not be in the same room when she can help it. 

sana keeps quiet for the most part; the watch components are small, tinkling like a choir of mini sleigh bells. she does mumble occasionally, but then she realizes that she’s speaking and trails off, leaving mina to try and keep from smiling too noticeably. she instead imagines sana sitting in this same room weeks ago, hovering over mina’s radio and asking out loud why the parts won’t fit quite right, or humming --

the familiar notes yank mina from her weary haze. over the weeks, she has often caught sana doing this -- humming while dressing, or eating, or during the short walks outside they will sometimes take together -- if only for a few seconds at a time. now, she listens more closely as sana completes the melody, and then loops back to the start. 

there’s no mistaking it. mina hasn’t been able to bring herself to listen to this song in over a year, but here it is all the same: on the lips of someone who should have been an entire ocean away from where these notes were last played.

mina clears her throat. “where did you hear that?”

sana stops. 

“the song you were humming,” mina says when sana doesn’t answer. she keeps her eyes closed. “where did you hear it?”

“oh, sorry. i didn’t even realize that i was humming.” sana pauses again. “it was probably just something i heard a while ago, in hawaii.”

mina drops her arm so she can turn her head and look sana in the eyes. “you’ve been to hawaii?”

“once.” sana sets down her screwdriver, and carefully herds all of the tiny screws she’d extracted into the middle of her palm. “it was one, maybe two years ago? to test routes for my family’s airline. my father didn’t want to take me, but this was the one time i was able to have my way. and hawaii --” she hesitates, and then smiles at mina. “that trip was good for me. it pushed me to keep going, even when everything else didn’t seem worth living for.”

mina slowly sits up. “you never told us that you’d been to hawaii.”

sana shrugs. “there’s nothing to talk about, really. the trip wasn’t even that fun, to be honest.”

“sana,” mina says. “i’m from hawaii.”

sana brightens. “oh, you are?”

“yes, i am.” mina considers asking about the details: which year and month did sana visit, which island out of the dozens that make up the state did she explore, what was it exactly that could have made her sad enough to pause her trip and watch the burial ceremony of a complete stranger?

but instead mina says, “that song you’re humming is my brother’s.”

sana stills. 

“when you visited,” says mina, “you saw a funeral, right? that had a -- there was a song, playing. it was a recording of a piano, and they were playing it from a gramophone, next to my brother’s casket.”

“mina,” sana says, and the tenderness in her tone rings discordantly with mina’s memories of the day; the sky was too blue, the air was too warm, her brother’s face was too pale --

“it’s alright.” mina concentrates on her feet. “i’m alright. it’s been two years, almost, and we all knew that he had -- that he was sick.” she tries for a shrug. “i was just really surprised that you know his song, and even remember it after all this time.”

another pair of shoes enters mina’s vision, and she looks up to see sana standing in front of her. sana’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, as if she is also still in mourning. she holds her hands out. “you don’t have to be alright yet, if you don’t want to be.”

mina stares at the lines criss-crossing sana’s palms. she wonders if she can trace along any one of them and still somehow make it to the same endpoint. “did it help you?”

sana tilts her head. “did what help me?”

“the song.” mina finally looks up. “did it help you with what was killing you on the inside?”

sana lets one arm drop, but the other stays raised. her fingertips eventually brush against mina’s temple, and then stretch further to carefully tuck a strand of hair behind mina’s ear. “more than you’ll ever know.”

“good.” mina’s eyes flutter closed. “that’s what he wrote it for.” she leans her head forward slightly, and sana brings mina the rest of the way into her embrace.

it might not be the best position, mina’s forehead resting against sana’s abdomen. but sana’s breaths rise and fall like a steady heartbeat. her fingers comb through mina’s hair, methodically untangling the mess of feelings that has been stuck in mina’s head since the first day she’d noticed her happy, healthy, unshakeable brother begin to wither away at his piano bench.

“i wish i could thank him,” sana says softly.

mina turns so that her cheek is pressed to sana instead. if she opens her eyes, she will be able to see the room past the sheltering bend of sana’s arm. “thank him for what?”

“for reminding me to live,” says sana. “so that i could find you.” and mina hears the words echo inside sana’s frame with the same importance as her bones and lungs and heart. 

mina says, “i wish i could thank him, too.” she wraps her good arm around sana’s waist so that the other girl will bring her even closer. they breathe together, and mina wishes that she could be anywhere but here -- with sana so near that there is nothing else she can want.

“if you’re not going to sleep, you could help me fix momo’s watch,” sana murmurs after a minute.

“i’m not a watchmaker,” mina says, wondering if this means that she has to open her eyes now.

“you don’t have to be,” says sana. “in fact, you just need one good arm.”

mina huffs a laugh, finally sitting back. “i suppose i’m in luck, then.”

“exactly.” sana grins. “i’d say you even have a lot of it. which i’ll need to borrow, because otherwise momo will never be on time again.”

“that won’t do,” mina agrees, and shifts to sit on the floor next to sana and momo’s dissected timepiece. 

the extent of mina’s help ends up consisting mostly of her handing over whichever tool sana asks for, and then rolling her eyes whenever sana complains that it isn’t the correct screwdriver. “again,” sana gripes, “this one is two sizes too big, minari.”

“there are twelve screwdrivers,” mina deadpans, “and they are all the same size: tiny.”

they carry out the same argument maybe a dozen more times, and each one ends with as many giggles and nudges as the first had. whether their time has stopped or they have stopped time, neither is aware of -- even so, the world they've escaped from continues to turn. 

momo’s watch ticks back to life on the evening of the second; they remember too late that sana’s plane will arrive at ten the next morning.

that night, mina and momo are the ones sharing a bed while sana occupies the other; it’s a rotation system that sana had come up with shortly after the failed motorboat heist, and it works if mina doesn’t count the fact that she has to worry about sana lying right next to her for one out of every three nights.

“momo,” mina says an hour or so after they’ve turned off the light. “are you still awake?”

the girl lying next to her stirs. “yeah, i can’t sleep either.”

mina turns her words over in her mouth before she speaks them. “i have a question about sana.”

momo shifts to face mina. “she’s right there, you know.”

“i know.” mina listens to the gentle ebb and flow of sana’s inhales and exhales. falling asleep quickly has always seemed to be the least of sana’s troubles, and mina is glad for it now. “she won’t wake up. and even if she did, we’re speaking english anyway.”

“alright.” momo gives half a shrug, her movement halted by the mattress. “so, what's your question?”

mina picks at the edge of her pillowcase. “what do you feel when -- when you’re with her?”

“what do i feel?” momo blinks owlishly, and mina feels a little bad for making her think so hard so late at night. “i don’t know. comfortable, i guess. more than i should be with the enemy. but she’s just a girl, and not even a soldier. maybe we could have been real friends in another life, you know?”

“real friends,” says mina, softly, and tries not to think about other things she wishes so vehemently to be just as true. 

“why?” momo rolls over onto her stomach. she tucks her hands under her pillow and settles her cheek on top of the cushiony surface, curious eyes now completely void of sleep. “what do you feel, then?”

mina takes a breath. she lets it out, and then takes another. on the other side of the room, sana’s dream-heavy lungs fill her silences: a push for every pull of air escaping mina’s body. “a lot of things.”

“you could try to be more specific,” says momo, not without affection. mina meets her eyes and sees the moonlight in them. 

mina does want to explain. she wants to try and put into words the exact feeling she used to get every so often, after sleeping in and easing into her morning so lazily that it slips into afternoon. the sun is high in the sky, warming the carpet of her living room after the curtains are drawn back from the windows, and the sky is so clear that she can’t help but step outside. because she knows that the breeze is just enough to keep the day’s heat at bay, and the air is crisp instead of muggy and thick. 

seeing sana smile feels just like this, mina wants to say. sana’s arms fitting around her feels just like this. sana admitting to love -- it feels just like this.

instead, mina says, “sana makes my heart ache.”

“oh,” says momo, but she doesn’t sound surprised. “is that bad?”

“it’s not all bad.” mina hesitates. “but i don’t think it’s all good, either.”

momo hums. then she pulls one hand from underneath her pillow so that she can reach over and stroke mina’s hair. “it’s alright to not know.”

mina closes her eyes. “i just wish that we -- that i had more time.”

“yeah.” momo pulls her hand back, but lets it rest on the bed between them. “there’s never enough, is there?”

“my brother had it all figured out,” mina says softly. she rubs the pillowcase harder between her fingers, the friction burning the pad of her thumb. “he had it all figured out, and he still didn’t get enough time to do everything he could have.”

momo reaches to rest her palm over mina’s knuckles this time, hand curling around the back of mina’s until her fingers still. 

“he told me not to worry,” says mina. “that he wasn’t going to go anywhere, no matter what the doctors said. he kept saying that. even when he couldn’t get out of bed anymore, and they were constantly sticking him with needles. he’d still hold my hand like -- like this, and tell me that he wasn’t going to go, because he still had people he wanted to live for.”

momo squeezes her hand. “he sounds like a wonderful person.”

mina nods. “i -- i told him that he didn’t have to -- to keep being in pain, to keep trying to hold on because he felt like he needed to. and he said that he was doing it not because we need him, but because he wanted us.”

momo says nothing. her thumb runs back and forth along mina’s knuckles, though, and that might be enough for now.

“i don’t think i understood the difference when he said it,” mina admits. “i honestly thought it was his way of saying that he was afraid of dying. but i think i get it now.”

“yeah?” momo hums.

sana exhales on the other side of the room, and mina finds herself breathing in time. “he was right. it’s different -- needing to live for others or even for yourself, and wanting to live because there are people you can’t imagine a reality without, anymore.”

momo’s eyes soften even further. “your brother was pretty smart.”

“the smartest,” says mina, conjuring up his smile in her mind’s eye. it’s a prayer that she intones over and over, and she thinks that it hurts a little less.

momo hums again. “alright, i have a question, now.”

mina meets her eyes. “what is it?”

“if she means so much to you,” momo says, “why have you been trying so hard to help her leave? i mean, you even got your father to lie for her and send a plane he’s never going to get back. at this point, we might as well just try to take her to the states with us after the war.”

mina squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to stop that particular train of thought even as it prepares to leave the station. “please don’t.”

momo hesitates. and then says, “i’m sorry.”

“she has her own life, momo, and it’s not here, or with us,” says mina. 

“she does,” says momo.

“i just wish,” mina starts, but then trails off. she hasn’t been able to think quite this far, until now -- envisioning tomorrow and how she will have to define the past three weeks as nothing but an impossibility, temporarily realized. “i suppose that if it was always destined to end this way, i would rather not have met her at all.”

“but you did meet,” momo says. “and even after she leaves, it’ll be too late to say that she was never here.”

mina’s inhale catches in her throat. in her bed, sana shifts, and then breathes out in her stead. 

momo doesn’t blink, but the moon in her eyes glimmers with a sympathy mina isn’t sure she’s ready to accept. a roaring rush floods mina’s head -- a typhoon of gray upon the perfect morning encompassed by sana’s smile -- and her heart splits at its center. she wonders if momo hears it, too: an echo sharper than a panicked cry for aid, and more muted than the stifling silence engulfing a freshly filled cemetery.

mina hopes that sana, at least, will stay safely enshrined in her land of dreams. 

“it might be too late already.” mina manages a smile, no matter how thin, in the face of momo’s moonlit eyes. “but i can still try.” 

\--

“let’s make this quick,” says momo after the three of them finish breakfast. “we’ve already done it once, anyway.”

sana pouts. “i know you’ve never wanted me around, but i was expecting our final farewell to be more heartfelt than this.”

momo rolls her eyes. “fine, fine. here.” her voice is rough, and she ducks her head as she quickly pulls sana into a tight hug. “i still have your ticket, so don’t think you’re excused from giving us a free airplane trip one day.”

“i wouldn’t dream of anything else,” sana promises. and holds on for a few seconds more because she knows that momo will cherish it, too.

momo exhales heavily. then she clears her throat, finally pulling away. “alright, i really do have to go. i was almost late yesterday.” her hand finds sana’s and gives it one last squeeze. “fly safely, alright?”

“alright,” sana says, and tries not to think too much about the door closing moments after, shutting momo from her sight forever. 

because now mina is the only other person left in the room, and sana isn’t sure whether she will ever be ready to leave.

she inhales deeply, casting one last look around. she has already made mina’s bed, and the radio with its little notch on the dial is still sitting on the nightstand, right next to the dictionary that sana has probably read every single page of by now. the other nightstand displays momo’s fixed wristwatch, which momo had apparently forgotten to wear before she left.

and then there’s mina.

sana steps forward, keeping an arm’s length of distance between them. she tilts her head to try and catch mina’s gaze, because the other girl is busy looking at the floor. “mina?”

mina’s eyes finally meet hers, and mina clears her throat. “yes?”

for a moment, sana is stuck. there is all at once too much she wants to say and yet, no words she can speak them with. their positions are mirrors of when they’d first said goodbye, and the contrast between then and now is not lost on sana; in a matter of weeks, she has gone from thinking of mina as a beautifully fleeting dream, to the faint whisper of what might have been that will lurk in her subconscious for many nights to come.

finally, sana smiles -- bright because she means it, and shaky because it’s the best that she can do. she opens her arms. “i think i owe you a hug.”

mina swallows, and sana hears it even from half a meter away. she remains where she stands, tucking her hands into her pockets. “that’s alright. maybe it’s better if we don’t.”

sana keeps her arms outstretched. “mina,” she says, “i’m really going, this time.”

“i know.” mina looks away. “i’m glad.”

and sana can see her trembling.

because mina is still a child, a teenager blithely living under the same roof as a kind brother and loving parents before she was shipped to the middle of an ocean too large for the entire world to fight in. and sana hurts for her, for the fact that out of all the islands in the boundless pacific, sana had to land on this one, and make mina grow up even faster than she already has.

so sana erases the space in between them and folds mina into her embrace. because even though she shouldn’t, mina belongs in sana’s arms; not even the smallest cogs of momo’s wristwatch can fit so finely together. 

over the hovering silence, sana hears those same cogs ticking away, counting precisely the seconds it takes for mina to settle her chin on sana’s shoulder. sana rests one of her hands on the softness of mina’s hair and thinks that in another time, she would like to be the one protecting mina instead. 

mina turns her head, whisper warming the shell of sana’s ear. “i don’t think i can say it.”

“alright.” sana worries for a moment that her murmur is too loud and will shatter the silence -- whichever one of them will break with it, she’s not so sure of.

mina tucks her face into the side of sana’s neck. “so let’s not. let’s not say goodbye.”

“alright.” sana takes a step back, slipping her shoulder from under mina’s cheek. mina looks up, brow furrowed. sana smiles, bringing her hand around to rub at the creases with her thumb. then she leans in, placing her lips gently against mina’s forehead. 

mina’s eyes close, and her mouth presses into a thin line. sana straightens, waiting for mina to open her eyes again. and when their gazes do find each other, mina lets out a laugh -- a short exhale of gratitude, only slightly strangled by the words that will always remain stuck in her throat. sana’s own vision blurs, but she blinks it clear as she smiles again. she dips her chin in a slight nod, and mina nods back.

sana thinks that if either of them look at momo’s wristwatch now, it will read exactly ten o’clock.

the lieutenant is waiting for them when they arrive at the airstrip. the plane mina’s father has sent is waiting, the former pilot standing at attention just off to the side. when mina salutes, it’s as if sana has been whisked back to the infirmary. mina’s right arm is still in a cast, and her eyes have sharpened to a familiar glint as she speaks with the lieutenant.

sana finds herself lucky to have discovered that there is much more to mina than this. there is the mina who will push and shove with momo no matter the time of day, and the mina who is too prideful to admit to never receiving a full score on sana’s impromptu hiragana quizzes. there is also the mina who believes in things like families and happy birthdays, and childishly wishes for others to be able to hold that same faith. 

and perhaps sana’s favorite: the mina who gets flustered around strangers she’s rescued from the ocean, who foregoes words for imported sweets and scavenged toolkits, and who sometimes switches on her radio just to hear its static.

by the time sana snaps out of her thoughts, she is sitting in the cockpit. the entire plane rumbles from the running engine, and her hands hover over the dials and buttons of the dashboard. the door has closed, and the plane sits too high above the ground for her to glance out the window to where mina might be standing, watching her leave.

sana supposes that this is for the best.

after a nearly disastrous mistake of not converting the navigation equipment from miles to kilometers, the flight passes in a blur as tedious as the steady drone of the plane engine. sana flies for a little under twelve hours, and almost cries when she first spots the outline of honshu rising above the endlessly blue ocean.

she creates a bit of a stir when she enters her country’s airspace, but they allow her to land in a military base in osaka. she half-expects her parents to not return her calls, and wonders if she can at least convince the soldiers to accompany her home so she can find and provide the proper identifying documents.

when her mother bursts through the door to the holding cell only a few hours later, though, sana is not ready for the hug she is pulled into. 

her father stands in the doorway, arms crossed and expression even crosser. but after her mother finally releases her, he steps forward to give her a solid pat on the shoulder, and tells her how glad he is that she’s safe.

mina is right after all, it turns out, and this makes it harder for sana to forget.

sana quits her personal projects and picks up some of the accounting her family’s factory needs taken care of. her father offers to bring some of her ideas to the military’s aircraft design committee, but sana can’t find it in her heart to give him the permission. so she spends her days crunching numbers and working through an old engine manual she’d found printed in english. 

when the grandfather clock in the minatozakis’ living room stops moving at twenty-five minutes past three, sana doesn’t hesitate to open it up. after a few hours of examination, she realizes that the mechanism is missing a gear, resulting in time slowing further and further with every rotation. she wonders how none of them had noticed the clock stretching each of their seconds too thin. 

the war rages on for seven more months. one monday evening, the united states unleashes a terrible new weapon on hiroshima. sana, three hundred kilometers to the east, hears devastating numbers and horrifying firsthand accounts on her nightstand radio, and wonders if any of these stories will make their way to american airwaves.

on thursday, nagasaki crumbles into a mushroom cloud of debris and death. sana is met with a somber, tired air wherever she walks. she thinks that it goes well with the ache that has been left in her heart since january, from where mina had carved out a piece to keep for herself. 

japan surrenders less than a week later. sana imagines mina and momo hugging each other in well-deserved relief. momo’s family will be allowed to return home, now; mina will be able to see her parents in person, too, instead of clutching onto tinny soundbytes broadcasted over telephone. and sana can’t help but think of mina using some of those precious seconds to explain to her father why he has to hoodwink his country just so that his daughter can help a stranger. 

they can put that nameless pacific island behind them, now, but sana can’t seem to do the same. she briefly wonders which is worse: that she has left a crucial cog of her machinery stranded in a soon-to-be-forgotten warzone, or that the memory of the girl sana is just a little too wrong to love refuses to be buried alongside it. 

her family’s factory demilitarizes, and sana looks at her old blueprints for the first time since she’s returned. 

in december, sana flies to hawaii.

the first place she visits is the cemetery. she stands outside of the black wrought-iron fence that doesn’t even come up to her waist, just as she had a little more than two years ago. she doesn’t go inside this time, either. 

it’s different, now. back then, she’d come to hawaii in a dark haze, the sluggish tempest swirling inside her head so opaque that she could no longer distinguish individual thoughts past the agony of not being able to patch up the crevice widening inside her chest. perhaps her father had sensed this, and this was why he’d taken the easy way out: allowing her to tag along in lieu of engaging in the emotionally tricky job of asking her what was wrong. 

the song playing at the funeral sana happened to be walking by was the first thing to pierce through her pain since she’d submitted to the blackened inevitable. but it hadn’t spoken to her because it was offering hope; she heard it because its melody sang lonelier than hers did. and yet it staunchly refused to end, circling seamlessly in sana’s head even after the casket had long been lowered into the ground. 

now, from her spot on the sidewalk, sana reflects that she might as well owe her life to the entire myoui family, and can’t help laughing a little. she quietly wishes mina’s brother peace -- and thanks him, too, just in case he needs to hear it. 

she spends a few days simply wandering around the dreamy beachside town. and after seven months, sana is proud to say that her english has gotten slightly better. she knows exactly what she’s looking for on this island, but asking around for someone who might know mina or her family doesn’t feel quite right, somehow. 

so she keeps walking.

there is a strip of shore just past the outskirts that sana quickly deems to be the best spot on the entire island. the sand is fine enough to walk fearlessly on barefoot, and there is an outcropping of large flat rocks that sana can spend hours sitting on top of while listening to the tide. just before dusk, locals might start a bonfire or two further down the beach, the flames dancing their own version of the brilliant orange sunset splashing across the wide, endless waves. 

a week after sana arrives in hawaii, she decides to end another day with a beachside sunset. but tonight, she finds someone already sitting on the rocks, proper posture silhouetted by the first tendrils of early evening. 

mina is staring towards the ocean. her hair is a little longer now, the ends of it brushing just past her shoulders. she’s still thin, but her skin glows in the fading light. her right arm has probably been out of its plaster casing for months, now. sana stops to breathe. 

mina turns her head.

her eyes widen; her jaw even drops a little. but to sana, myoui mina is the most beautiful sight to be graced by a perfect sunset, even when she looks as if she has just seen a ghost.

sana steps closer, sandals crunching mildly in the sand until she stops half a meter away or so away from the rock. she clasps her hands behind her back, and doesn’t have to try for a smile. “if i never said goodbye, does that mean i have to say hello, now?”

“this isn’t a dream,” mina finally whispers. she swallows. “please, tell me this isn’t a dream.” 

“this isn’t a dream,” says sana -- and yelps when mina barrels into her and knocks her into the sand.

the heat from the day has already seeped out of the beach, leaving sana with a chilled back and hard granules scratching against her scalp. but she ignores it all in favor of mina hovering above her like some angel from paradise, the dying brilliance of the sunset reborn in her enormous smile.

“you’re lucky that the sand is soft,” sana says. “i could have hurt myself.”

“you’re here,” mina breathes. “you’re really here.” 

mina has one hand raised, fingertips wavering just over sana’s cheek. sana laughs. she reaches up, threading her fingers in between mina’s; it’s like clockwork. “i’m really here. see?”

mina nods, barely, her eyes scanning every centimeter of sana’s face. maybe she notices the section of sana’s eyelashes where her mascara had refused to cooperate earlier that morning, or the faint freckle by sana’s nose that had blossomed three months after her return to japan. maybe mina notices none of these, and is busy memorizing everything about sana now, just in case. she tightens her hold on sana’s hand and asks, “how?”

sana attempts a shrug, and feels the sand beneath her shoulders shift. “i’ve been pretty lucky this past year, if you think about it. crash landing in enemy territory, surviving said crash landing, and then somehow making it back home just over three weeks later.”

mina chuckles. “yeah, i guess you were pretty lucky.” 

“exactly,” says sana lightly. “so i thought i’d push it one more time, just to see.”

“and?” mina murmurs. “what did you see?”

sana grins. the stars she sees in mina’s irises might be a reflection of the steadily darkening sky -- or an echo of the shower of sparks that shoots through her chest once the missing piece of her heart clicks safely into place. 

“sana?” mina tilts her head at the silence, and sana can’t resist raising her free hand to cup mina’s face. 

“i saw you,” sana whispers, brushing her thumb across mina’s cheek. “so i suppose i’ve used up the last of my luck.”

“that’s okay,” says mina, before she leans in. “you can have some of mine.”

sana laughs into the kiss, and mina lets out a chuckle, too. then she rests her forehead against sana’s for a moment. their eyelids flutter closed, and they breathe in the entire evening: the stars, the breeze, and the sound of softly lapping waves as sana’s chest rises to mina’s falling. 

they are two girls on an island in the middle of the pacific ocean, and not even a war with the entire world can keep them apart.

**Author's Note:**

> if you read through the entire 20k i really appreciate it :') find me being like TT @moonrise31


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